One Choice
by GamberDragon
Summary: Volke/Sothe. The very different, very overdue remake of One or the Other. Sothe has two, very important people in his life, and soon, he'll have to make the choice. One or the other. His decision to seek the other half that he had left three years ago could change his story completely, and sweep him up into the war - on the Laguz's side against Begnion...and, eventually, Daein.


**One Choice**  
_Chapter One_

A/N: ...There's not really a good excuse for how long I've taken to start rewriting this story. There was school...But that didn't honestly take up ALL of my time. I apologize to those that really wanted to see the remake. I also apologize for discontinuing the original story 'One or the Other', which is quite different from what this story will be.  
To anyone who decides to read this: I thank you, and hope you enjoy it...I'm trying to make it more realistic, and less dramatic.

Also...Sorry for how short this beginning is. This is more about inner musings and flashbacking - and later chapters will have a bit of a different style.

...Enjoy?

* * *

"_I'm…I've decided to go back to Daein." _

To actually get those words out…had lanced through Sothe's heart – because he knew just what he was walking away from by saying them.

_A blank expression passed across Volke's face, and not for the first time, the thief wished he was better at reading his lover's emotions. He was probably the best out of anyone in the army, but at times like these, it just wasn't enough to avail him anything._

It was almost funny – how Sothe had been afraid that _Volke_ was going to abandon him, early on in their relationship, when it was obvious the thief was getting too attached for a sex-only relationship. It was only almost funny because _Sothe_ being the one to abandon his lover in the end wasn't humorous at all.

_When the assassin continued to say nothing, and simply stared at the thief with what could've been a little shock breaking through his cool demeanor, Sothe began to get nervous. In a move that he often did when nervous around his lover, he looked off to the side, at the ground, and pressed his hands together._

Though it had hurt to say it back then – more than anything he had ever experienced before in his admittedly short life – he hadn't quite realized just how much that pain would increase over time.

"…_Is that so?"he said it casually, as if his lover's sudden decision had no impact on him._

Sothe only realized later that there had been hurt behind that voice; and, if he had been looking, he would've seen the hurt in his lover's eyes.

"_Are…are you mad?" gold eyes finally left the floor to once again meet cold orbs of deep red garnet._

_Volke gave an easy smirk, one that had graced his face many times before. "It's your life, and your decisions. I'm not mad."_

He hadn't been mad. He had been betrayed.

_Sothe breathed out; not quite sure whether he was relieved, or if he was disappointed. Tentatively, he scooted closer, knees barely touching those of the assassin next to him. Volke's smirk faded away, once again leaving a blank expression that spoke of nothing, and the thief's hesitance grew._

_A faint, somehow sorrowful smile touched the edges of lips that could promise pleasure of the greatest level. "V-Volke?" that look confused the thief. "Are you…?"_

"_I'm not mad, little thief." Volke whispered back, eyes growing colder yet. "What you desire is what matters." He leaned in then, lips pressing insistently against the teen's, claiming._

Or perhaps taking the claim away.

"_Volke…." The thief whimpered softly, eyes half-lidded._

"_Do what you see fit."_

So he had. He returned to Micaiah, and for three years, protected her more or less against the troops of Begnion. Then – with a mind so undecided, and torn between two forces – he couldn't even withhold that drive.

He could still feel those lips; he could see those cool, betrayed eyes more clearly, and he could hear a painfully stoic baritone ringing in his ears. A longing had filled him and carved out a hollow spot deep within his heart with all the expertise of an assassin wielding a knife.

Volke, his first and only lover, called to him with the voice of allure and desire; Micaiah, the one who saved him and raised him, looked all too fragile as she stood, surrounded by their comrades, yet alone in her responsibility.

Darkness clung to Sothe as he ran towards Nevassa, and he was glad for it, because it hid the pained, uncertain grimace across his face.

One or the other. He was running to Volke now, but he still couldn't choose. He didn't think he could ever choose between the two most important pieces of his life. Micaiah, his sister; and Volke, the man he loved. Without one he was shattered, and without the other, he was lost.

But he knew, one day, he would have to choose; one or the other.


End file.
